


Pottery

by Nikikeya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, John's PoV sorta, Post-Reichenbach, no idea what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikikeya/pseuds/Nikikeya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's compares Sherlock to a vase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pottery

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this on the fly, I make no illusion to knowing anything about making Pottery, so please don't get mad. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos appreciated.

Pottery

When John Watson had first met Sherlock Holmes, the man had been cold, unrefined and bursting with untapped potential.   
Like a lump of cold clay waiting to be shaped.  
They'd moved in together at Baker Street.   
Started solving crimes together.   
Go to know one another.   
Fell into a comfortable pattern.   
And John had slowly started to kneed the clay, acts of kindness warming it, making it more malleable.   
Every word and action shaping it, molding it into something beautiful, wonderful... Brilliant.  
But just as it was finally starting to take shape, Moriarty appeared, and started putting fire under it, baking it with adversity.   
Then the media adding to the inferno, and John tried to stop it, tried to pull Sherlock back away from the flames.   
But it was too late, everything shattered, and fell apart.   
And John was left alone.   
He reached out trying to pick up the shattered pieces, put them back together.   
Only to have them snatched out of his hands, and taken away...

Then Sherlock had returned, and he was whole again, completely unmarred, vibrant, and brilliant, with a shining glaze. 

And John was happy. Things were almost like he'd never fallen.

But now...

John stared in wide eyed horror from Magnessens' unmoving corpse to Sherlock's wide back, as the man stood in front of him, bathed in the lights of the helicopters over head as Mycroft's shouts echoed around them. 

And he just stared.

And stared..

And stared...

Cause there, under the intense light from the Helicopters search beams, Sherlock was laid bare, and John could finally see them.

He saw the cracks...


End file.
